8 June

Jessica Rylan, PhD, electrical engineer and sonic freakout champion augments her solo free noise project (Can’t) with fellow Masshole Bill Nace and Chris “good enough to play with Coltrane” Corsano — the latter two perform splendidly as Vampire Belt, so naturally, powers combined, the trio christen themselves Vampire Can’t. I’ll cut to the chase: Key Cutter will fuck you up. I’m not entirely certain who compliments who, but in this union of minds and sounds and sounds and minds, Rylan’s textures mesh seamlessly with Corsano’s fury which blends with Nace’s disregard for the integrity of his instrument (about time some did it). It’s intense, but not gimmicky like perennial blowhard Michael Gira and Swans. Not dissimilar to Lightning Bolt, but this boards Lightning Bolt’s vessel and sends the fucker into the icy deep. From the grotesque opening track, “the Rat,” the album bursts like a sore and hits harder than ten Keith Moons. A quick hop into a piece of sonic dynamite, “WaX Lips,” communicates loud and clear, that like the mob, once you’re in, you are in. “Soft Canary” promises to unground you if you finish your homework and clean your room, but don’t hold breath, because two minutes later, “Five Eyes” —after the deceptive respite proffered by its opening bars—flips its lid and you’re in for the rest of the weekend. And what a weekend it is. The closing 12 minute robo-dirge, “No Strings” is a watery, glitchy, tape-y parting of kindred spirits. The tune calls it like it sees it: no strings attached, it was fun while it lasted, now we go our separate ways. Don’t ever call me again. In fact, it’s best to not even think about me. No, not the album —well, never mind, you get the point. With regards to the album, it is best to think about and listen to this record again and often. It’s cathartic, bombastic, and dangerous —the stuff rock ‘n’ roll dreams are made of.